More Than Words
by ellendarunner
Summary: In the wake of the McKinley High shooting, Brittany knows that something is up with her Sammy.


"Hi baby, you feeling any more normal?"

_Not really. Not at all. I feel like I'm dying, Brittany._

The truth is, in the three days since the shooting, Sam hadn't eaten or slept. He just couldn't. He was haunted by the fact that Brittany was away from him during the ordeal, and he couldn't do anything to help her. The thought of her getting hurt… He also felt physically sick over the fact that he could've gotten everyone in the choir room killed. But Brittany… he just didn't know how to deal with it all.

He feels a little better when Brittany presses her lips to his, and even better when she tells him that she loves him.

"I love _you_," he says, because he's sure that she cannot possibly understand how much he loves her. He loved Quinn, and he loved Mercedes, but with Brittany, it was different. It was like Britt was literally a part of him. He wasn't whole without her. She was him, and he was her.

They go back to Brittany's house to introduce Lady Tubbington to Lord Tubbington and get her situated before heading back to school for the "secret" glee club meeting. (He's 99.9% sure Mr. Shuester knows they're skipping the mandatory assembly and that he couldn't care less.) It makes him smile and it makes his insides feel all warm as Brittany coos at not one, but two morbidly obese cats. Sam just lies down on his girlfriend's bed; his head feels a little funny.

"Baby? The Tubbington's are craving salami and peanut butter sandwiches; do you want me to make you one, too?"

"No thanks," he replies softly, the thought of food just makes him feel sick since the banging of the gunshots.

"A different kind of sandwich?"

"I'm not hungry, Britt."

"Are you feeling ok? You're still super hot and all, but you look a little pale."

"I'm fine, Brittany, don't worry about me."

Apparently, Brittany is undeterred, because he feels the bed shift and then she's sitting right up against him. She gently brings the back of her hand to his forehead and the lines of her face harden a little in confusion.

"You're not warm," she murmurs.

"I told you, I'm fine."

"But you're not," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Brittany-

"I know you. Something's up with my Sammy."

"There's nothing wrong. I'm just a little tired, Britt," he assures her, and hey, it's partially true.

"Then let's skip the meeting and just cuddle with the Tubbingtons."

It's tempting, really tempting of an offer, but he can't agree to it. He is fine after all, and he doesn't want Brittany to fuss over him. He couldn't even get to her; Mr. Shuester had to save her. Besides, he almost got her friends killed too.

"No, let's go to the meeting. I'm fine, and besides, who else is going to play the guitar?"

She doesn't seem fully satisfied, but she agrees to go to the meeting. She, however, is the one doing the driving this time. He doesn't argue with her. She's a good driver, and he doesn't really have the energy to debate.

He starts playing the opening chords and he sees Blaine and Tina walk in, hand in hand. He smiles a little, but it fades because Tina's dress is playing tricks on his eyes. The stripes are all blurry, so he looks away, but his vision is still hazy. He realizes it's probably not her dress, but his eyes.

A little later, he sings his lines with Brittany. She looks up at him, and he isn't stunned by the beautiful blue of her eyes, because it's hard to make them out. He pushes through, though, and no one seems to notice his guitar playing getting sloppier and sloppier.

By the time someone, he thinks it's Ryder, comes running in, everything is legitimately spinning. _Don't pass out, don't pass out, don't pass out_, he chants to himself. He thinks Brittany is staring at him and oh… he thinks she's saying his name. He feels a hand on him and lazily strums the last chord of the song.

Someone takes the guitar out of his arms just in time for his eyes to close and for his body to come crashing down into a pair of open arms.

"Sam!" Brittany shrieks, tightening her arms around him.

Everyone freaks out and calls his name, and Blaine orders everyone but himself and Brittany to move back so that he would have space. He comes back to them pretty quickly. Almost immediately after Britt and Blaine position him so that he's lying down, his eyes flicker open.

"Brittany?" he mumbles.

"Yes, baby, I'm right here," she says, blinking back the tears stinging the back of her eyes.

"Why am I on the floor?"

"You passed out, Sam," answered Blaine, sensing that if Brittany opened her mouth again she might break down. The blonde girl seemed to be holding back a sob as she stared at her ghostly pale boyfriend.

"Oh… everyone stop staring, I'm fine-

"You're not fine," cried a furious Brittany, "stop lying to me!"

"Britt-

"No! I knew something was wrong and I-I should've… but I knew it and you lied!"

"Brittany, I'm sorry, please don't cry. I just need to rest and then I'll be fine."

"Why did you lie to me?" she sniffled and Sam felt like the most evil person in the world.

"Because I didn't want you to worry, Britt. I truly thought I'd be ok."

"But you weren't."

"I guess you know me better than I know myself, babe."

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," she whispered, taking both of Sam's hands in hers.

"Don't be. I deserved it."

"No. You don't feel good."

"Just a little dizzy. Soon I'll be good as new."

"How many fingers am I holding up Sam?" asked Blaine, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Six," he said, and the whole room gasped, "Guys, I'm just kidding. He's holding up three fingers."

"Not funny, Sam," mumbled Blaine, but the relief on his face was evident by a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Can I go home now?"

"Burt and Carole aren't home. You're coming home with me," Brittany said firmly.

"Brittany-

He was interrupted by a glare so angry and so stubborn that the words were taken right out of him. He nodded impishly.

"Good Sam," his girlfriend cooed, pressing a tender kiss to cheek, which she recognized was the color of vanilla ice cream and frowned. Ice cream was yummy, but her baby's face should not be so white.

After about a good twenty minutes of convincing his fellow glee club members that he felt well enough to walk out to Britt's car, she was buckling him in. He bit his lip to keep from telling her that he could fasten a seatbelt himself, because the last time he told her he could do something, he ended up lying on the auditorium floor. Besides, the concerned look on her face made guilt sit in the pit of his stomach.

The car ride was entirely silent. At every stoplight, she'd reach over and grab his hand, but no words were exchanged. When they got to her house, he waited to get out himself and let her unbuckle his seatbelt and help him out of the car. As they walked up into her room, her grip on his hand was so tight he thought she might break it, but he knew better than to complain.

"Lay down," she ordered, gesturing to her bed.

He obeyed, and patted the other side of the bed, beckoning her to come lay with him. She shook her head.

"You need to eat first."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes you are," she says matter-of-factly.

"Britt-

"You haven't eaten because the shooting made your tummy feel sick, but you need to eat."

"How did you…" he trails off, not knowing what to say.

"I know you. I understand you more than anything else in the world, which is a lot, because pretty much everything confuses me. Will you please eat for me?"

He takes in the pained look on her face and sighs.

"Anything for you, Britt."

She turns to leave the room but stops at the doorway and pivots on her heels.

"I love you," she says urgently.

"I love you, too," he says meaningfully, but a little confused.

"You picked More Than Words to sing to Lord Tubbington because you wanted me to show you that I love you. I'm sorry that sometimes it seems like I care about my cats, or astronomy, or other genius stuff more than I care about you, but I don't. I love you," she blurts out, tears starting to spill from her eyes.

"Brittany, I believe you when you tell me that you love me because you show me with more than words."

"Good, because I can tell you love me more than anyone you've ever loved before, and I want you to know that I feel the same," she says with conviction, and than bounces out of the room, probably to go get him some food.

He chuckles at her sudden profoundness and then how quickly her tone changes. _That's Brittany, for you_. There are tears, happy tears, in his eyes as he laughs. Despite the fact that he had previously been cheated on, lived in poverty, and had a shooting at his school, he knows that he's the most lucky guy in the world.


End file.
